Live Long and Conquer!
by smilelaughread
Summary: The Dark Lord has an idea for a way to increase the numbers and strength of their ranks. It involves those filthy half-breeds and inferi. Written for a HPFC challenge. Takes place before Harry's birth. No prophecy yet, i.e. Voldemort is still sane. Rated T for some violence, warning in story.


**Warning: there is a disturbing scene involving a snake, its blood, and the binding ceremony. Do not read if that is not your thing. Also, there is much talk of destruction and death, so... Read at your own discretion.**

**I don't own these charactes.**

**It was written for the Doomsday Challenge at HPFC**

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Rabastan Lestrange watched as the general chaos of apparition started up moments after the Dark Lord pressed a finger to his Master Mark and spoke a word in Parseltongue. There were faint noises, slight disturbances, but all in all the Death Eaters were quiet as they arrived. All wore their dark robes, as black as the night, and held their wands in their dominant hands. All wands were, however, pointed toward the ground. There would be no accidental mishaps to happen; they had all learned as much after Kilterly Hognirt cursed another Death Eater and was promptly killed by the Dark Lord.

Rabastan admired that his Lord had no qualms about that sort of thing.

"Welcome," Though it seemed to be so, Voldemort did not use any amplifying charms on his voice. There was power behind it, but it was all his own. The crowd, which had been quiet, now fell as silent as the graveyard they met in. "It pleases me greatly that our most recent raid was entirely successful. We are getting powerful, and it's only a matter of time until we triumph!"

The assembled Death Eaters went crazy, whooping and shouting. All proud their cause was winning, gaining in power and actively overthrowing their enemies. The members of the group that had raided the night before all smirked smugly before joining in with eager and excited yells of their own. Their Lord appeared pleased by their enthusiasm, and he waved dismissively at them. They had a few moments to speak amongst themselves. Murmurs spread through the black-robed figures. Rabastan almost shivered when his Lord met his eyes and beckoned him forward. He didn't waste any time, and shouldered through the throngs of Dark Witches and Wizards.

Voldemort spoke to him in low whispers, informing him that there was to be an initiation ceremony, and that he should alert the people who usually participated. He got to work at once, and was soon done and nodding at his Lord.

"Gather, my faithful followers, and listen close," Voldemort rose up, floating up in midair to blatantly show his power. It worked, and the crowd was subdued immediately. "We have a new one in our midst. The welcoming and Initiation ceremony will begin promptly."

The cold, clammy feeling of the wards around the Death Eaters lifted for mere seconds, and a soft _pop_ was heard - an amateur, or a side-along apparition. Rabastan suspected it to be the latter. An inky black trail followed whatever, or rather whoever, flew into the group, landing directly in front of the Dark Lord. The wards then clicked back into place, inducing a nervous, sweaty feeling. There was enough dark magic surrounding them to make any wizard uncomfortable, but of course that was what the Dark Lord wanted. There were to be no unwanted interruptions.

Two figures stood, and Rabastan had to forcibly remind himself not to make a sound as Regalus Black and his brother, Rodolphus, were discovered, heads bowed, in front of his Lord.

So that was their new addition, Regalus, hardly out of Hogwarts. On one hand, it was good that they had this extra hand. It would be a tough fight; Rabastan was a logical man and understood that, against the light. The more power they had supporting their almost infallible Lord was good. On the other hand, he didn't think it incredibly prudent to be pushing children into their ranks.

Young ones were most likely to balk and try to leave in the face of a battle, and it was hard to determine if they would really – should it ever occur – stay to fight and protect their leader.

He scanned the crowd, trying to pick out individual faces, something he had not done at the beginning of the gathering. Many did not have their masks on – only truly required for raids – and he was able to recognise faces.

Rabastan scowled inwardly - he wasn't allowed to publicly display such a common emotion such as disgust - as he spotted his simpering sister-in-law, Bellatrix. She had married his brother, and Rabastan had never really seen anything good in her. She was the opposite of what a good, Pureblood wife should be: ambitious, loud, attention-seeking, and power-hungry. He had never approved of her.

Rabastan forced his eyes back to the front of the group, where preparations were being made for the initiation ceremony. It was always a lengthy ordeal, and Rabastan had all but tired of it after the numerous additions to their forces in recent months. He was not about to complain, of course, but he wished he was out wreaking havoc rather than standing there, waiting for the binding ceremony to begin.

Someone began whispering somewhere to the left of him, and he turned his sharp gaze toward the offender. Everyone knew they were supposed to keep quiet at all times, unless spoken to or released from their voluntary silence. It was to show respect to their almighty Dark Lord, and Rabastan found it ridiculous that someone would risk Voldemort's wrath.

His eyes landed on Evan Rosier. Rosier, like Rabastan, was one of the Dark Lord's favourites. Rabastan was in his Lord's favour for his exceptional planning skills and Rosier was for his ruthlessness and knowledge. He was one of the few truly useful Death Eaters, one of the few truly indispensable followers. Rosier had access to a large supply of books, many on dark curses and magic, and it made him valuable to their cause. He had, Rabastan couldn't deny, incomparable researching skills. It seemed he was multitalented, also, because when asked, he participated in any attack. Be it an orphanage – Rabastan was still confused about his Lord's motives for that raid – or a muggle village, he had no qualms about setting fire to it and letting everything and anyone burn to a crisp.

Rabastan nearly smiled, remembering almost fondly some of the memories of all his successful raids.

They were really getting more powerful, and Rabastan was positive the Dark Lord would triumph when all this came to a head.

They were increasing the regularity of their attacks, striking almost (but not quite; the Dark Lord surely had some plan for this war) at random. They were almost always successful and even when the Aurors managed to arrive at the  
scene of the raid, they were usually too late. He took pleasure in every effective and well-executed attack.

He had heard whisperings that the Dark Lord was planning to call on the services of some half-breeds to help them win. Rabastan didn't see why they would pollute their army with those _filthy-blooded_ _animals_, but he trusted in his Lord's judgement. Of course, there had to be some kind of plan in place, and his Lord intended to win, so Rabastan didn't mind. He would follow the Dark Lord into the darkest pits of Hell. If, of course, he thought he might gain something for it. Nearly smirking, he thought: _What a Slytherin way of thinking._

His attention was once again commanded by the Dark Lord. "Rodolphus Lestrange, you are willing to risk your life; body, soul, and magic to vouch for this initiate?"

There was silence and tension in them all. Rodolphus spoke in a voice hardly above a whisper, but his nod revealed his answer to those standing farther away, "Yes, my Lord."

"Are you agreeing to a binding spell that will notify me if you ever help him sabotage our plans?" Voldemort's voice was getting louder, and he pulled his wand out.

"Yes, my Lord. I will swear it."

A flash of light emerged from Voldemort's wand, the single line of light circling around the two of them. It burned brighter and brighter, and all the while the Dark Lord chanted something within the light. When they were released, Rodolphus staggered around, looking dreadfully pale and drained. He placed a hand on Regalus' shoulder and then turned and joined Rabastan. The first part of the ceremony was over.

Regalus made Rabastan, as a Pureblood, proud. He was standing up straight, no signs of fear at all evident. In fact, he stared up into his future Lord's eyes with confidence, unwilling to be the one to break their eye-contact. The Dark Lord pointed his wand at Regalus' wrist, muttering something to the younger man. He had instructed him to turn the inside of his wrist up.

They stared once again at each other.

"You agree that your soul, magic, and physical body will be under my control until death?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"You agree to a mark that will tell the world of your allegiance?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"You agree that, should the moment arise, I could use this mark to injure, impair, or kill you?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Some words were said in Parsletongue, a long string of hisses and punctuated then drawn out letters. The language was one few could speak, and it showed the incredible power the Dark Lord held. They would surely win this war; there was no doubt in Rabastan's mind. Another flash of light, though different than the one that had bound the Dark Lord and Rodolphus together, circled the two of them, pulling them up off the ground.

They landed on the ground, though the Dark Lord continued hissing. His tongue flashed out, flicking and letting the sounds slip off of his tongue smoothly. Rabastan knew what was coming. The snake came towards the Dark Lord like it was charmed, though Rabastan knew it thought it was doing it of its own free will. The Dark Lord cast a spell to lift it from the ground. Not once ceasing the muted hissing, he slipped from speaking with the snake to some obscure dark spell, and the snake spasmed.

The snake's head was ripped back by unrelenting, cold, pale hands until the dark burgundy of its blood began to drip. A chalice appeared almost from nowhere – the Dark Lord's wandless magic at work. More incantations were muttered, and then the chalice was pressed to the Dark Lord's Mark.

The Marks of all of the Death Eaters burned in turn, and then the cloudy liquid was passed to Regalus. The boy looked determined, if not completely stunned by the ceremony. Unlike many new initiates, he neither vomited nor smiled at the taste of the blood. He swallowed and bowed his head.

"My lord," he intoned.

The Dark Lord enveloped them in another blinding binding spell, lifting them even higher into the air. The boy spun in the air, face twisted in a mask of agony, unable to retain his aloof and cool composure.

When they returned, it was over; Regalus was bound by magic to the Dark Lord.

"You have agreed to this mark, have you not?"

Regalus nodded, eyes bright and sparkling with something unplaceable. And pain, though it was far more muted and hardly noticeable except under close scrutiny by someone who'd seen a lot of pain, such as Rabastan had.

"You will bear it with pride or be subject to the consequences?"

Another curt nod, though it was already done and Regalus would not have been able to refuse even if he had wanted to.

"You agree to a short Legilimency scan?"

A look of surprise passed the young man's features, but his expression was schooled shortly after. He gave a nod.

"Good. _Legilimens,"_ Minutes passed, and the Death Eaters got restless. They stood still, but no longer looked captivated with the show. The truly entertaining part was yet to come, so no one made any attempt to leave or begin moving about. Ten minutes, then fifteen, and finally twenty passsed. Regalus swayed, and the Dark Lord blinked. It was over. Rabastan felt a very cold smile pass over and shape his features; he was looking forward to this.

"My dearest Death Eaters, he is worthy. Help me bring him into our glorious circles." Rabastan mentally cringed at the exaggerated arm movements his Lord made. The man had a penchant for the dramatic… that was for sure.

The Death Eaters all brought their wands up to face level, holding on with both hands. They began murmuring the familiar spell.

Regalus looked highly disoriented and confused, but Rabastan had to give him credit for not having passed out after the long mind-searching. It took a moment, but when the spell began to have its effect, Regalus' expression turned pained. He gripped at his arm, where the mark was soon to appear, and fell to his knees. The pain of the magical Mark had been bad, but this magic that made the Mark visible was far worse. The pain seemed to be getting too much for the boy, and Rabastan laughed. He needed to strengthen up if he was looking to survive long in their ranks.

Regalus' jaw worked, but he made no sound. His fingers clawed at the slowly darkening exposed skin of his forearm. He let no tears or screams escape him, and Rabastan was faintly impressed.

When it was over, Regalus even managed to stand up again, though it was apparent that he was in much pain. Rabastan failed to follow the hunched-over boy through the crowd and settled for staring up at his Lord once again.

The man spread his hands wide, calmly drawing the attention of the hundreds of assembled Death Eaters. "My humble followers," he began grandly. "The end of the war is upon us."

His long, spindly fingers clasped around his wand, holding it up in front of his face. He appeared to be addressing it - one of his most prized possessions, Rabastan had gathered after his times as right-hand man – though they all knew they were really under close watch.

"I have no doubts that we are stronger than our opponents, with the ability to strike and win with almost one-hundred percent accuracy. We are unstoppable," hoots started up at that, but one casually raised arm silenced the group once more. "However, once we gain power, we will need forces to maintain that. Of course, once we won, our opponents would once again band together and rebel. That would truly be a waste of good, magical blood. A terrible offence, really,"

Regalus shifted his weight from one leg to the next, uncomfortable. What could it mean that he hadn't been privy to the Dark Lord's plans ahead of time? It was worrying, to say the least.

"But I reached an… I don't know, impasse, when thinking. Once we gain power, we will have everything – access to the research of the world, to all the manpower we could want. But we need someone to enforce that which we stand for. I do not expect us to be the ones to do that; we will be reveling in all that which we have won! Rosier, explain."

Rabastan turned to Rosier, sure the man was going to explain something difficult.

"Our Dark lord suggested the use of half-breeds to do our menial work. There are creatures – ogres, trolls, centaurs – that can be ruthless and very intelligent. Not intelligent enough, though. Of course. They would be there to enforce the law and sniff out any wrongdoers who may be trying to rescue the world." That was said with an edge of sarcasm. "The thing with half-breeds is that they are, as expected, less capable than us. Many lack magic or talent for magical things. This would work to our advantage, as attackers would not be able to curse or kill our creatures. They would be immune. They would be our defenders."

"The perfect defenders, imagine that," said the Dark Lord, gesturing pointedly. "And imagine how ironic that those creatures which are cared for by the light will be persuaded to join the dark, the same way those who constitute the light will become nothing more than specks in darkness."

Rosier spoke again, "For the final battle that we know is coming imminently, we will use inferi. I have done research, and it is easy to control them. They are dead people, and the perfect ways to psycologically frighten our opponents. We can reanimate the families of our opponents. It will be quite the shock, I'd like to think."

There was a shout of outrage that came from somewhere in the crowd. The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed to little more than slits, his magical power making the air around them all crackle with energy.

"Who dares speak to their Lord in this manner?" he intoned.

"Bellatrix. Bellatrix Lestrange," comes her slow, drawling tone. "I understand the need to protect ourselves – and what a way to do it, making the light side lose some of its greatest supposed allies – but why must they be half-breeds? Half-breeds! They're abominations, impure, worthless!" Her cries echoed, and she stepped back. "Forgive me, my lord, but I must understand why we cannot simply kill those who betray us and do not think as we do. That includes those… _half-breeds_ with their tattered clothing, frayed personality, and complete lack of power. It's detestable, and I simply will not stand for it. Purebloods reign, needing no help from those unworthy. And inferi are terribly difficult to maintain, to call, to animate, to... well, everything! Not to mention that they're unstable and simply unsightly. There could be problems that would seriously endanger our chances."

"But, you see, that is flawed reasoning. We could not get on without the help of some well-managed and disciplined House-Elves, am I correct? You are proposing we vanquish them upon principle, with no thought of their worth to the advancement of our cause. I do not disagree with ridding the world of muggles and Mudbloods, as they have nothing. These, ahem, _abominations_ have physical strength, the power of intimidation, and are resistant to many spells. They could guard us. Then, the inferi are dispensible. They are the dead, brought back to serve the will of their masters! If the spells work well enough, we can reanimate the bodies of the fallen and use them to continue our fight, should it come to that in the final battle."

"But my Lord-"

"It has been decided already!" The bellow caught Bellatrix, temperamental and caught-up as she was, off guard. She stumbled over her words.

"My apologies, my Lord."

There were a few more plans shared, mainly of raids that were to take place. Rabastan, name forever uncalled, started to drift off.

"Rodolphus Lestrange, I request to speak with you personally," said the Dark Lord, "As for the rest of you, go and continue spreading our beliefs. It is our knowledge of ancient traditions and old, deep-rooted power that will win our cause. Be gone! Rabastan and Rodolphus, you will stay behind, as will Rosier." With a clap, the wards around them crashed, and the vacuum feeling of hundreds of disapparitions at the same time encircled the remaining few.

There was one unwanted addition to their group… Regalus. He was pale and gaunt, looking ill and frail. He was still standing, though his forehead was creased and his eyes tightened at the corners.

"You dare disobey me?" the Dark Lord intoned slowly, approaching at an even, steady pace, wand out. Had there been colour in Regalus' face, it would have been drained just then.

"I cannot disapparate," he answered, "My Lord."

Ah, the boy learned quickly.

"Very well, stay with your uncles. Obliviate will be necessary afterwards. And now my favourite friends," said the Dark Lord, opening his arms to the other three. "I trust you three to be the force that drives us to victory. Your combined strengths will be enough to concoct a plan to lure the creatures to us. Be very sure of your actions, and be very aware of the consequences." The nonchalant wave of his wand hand – that held his wand in it – was explanation enough of the consequences. "I expect a full plan by our next meeting." With that, he disapparated also.

"When will the next meeting be?" Regalus, all bright-eyed and new, looked less oppressed now that his Lord had gone. The unhealthy pallor of his skin remained.

"It could be tomorrow, or in as much as a week," Rodolphus explained. Then, to his brother and Evan, "We need to know what they want. The half-breeds must be bribed. The inferi will be difficult to maintain. Much research is to be done."

"No, not bribed," said Rabastan, picking up on the first part of the sentence. "If we bribe, there's always the chance that a better offer will come around. We must threaten."

"Obviously," Rosier's snooty tone angered Rodolphus and irritated Rabastan, though he didn't show it the way his brother did; eyes widening, cheeks darkening, and magic rolling off of him in chilling waves.

"Calm," reminded Rabastan. "And Rosier, enough. We will get this finished, and I mean _now._"

"Yes," said Rosier, "And then the world will fall apart when we finally choose to strike." His eyes glazed over as a calculating look passed over him. "We will bring with us the end of the world, the end of their lives, with us. And we will win!"

"When will it be?" Regalus needed to keep his mouth quiet.

"Soon," assured Rabastan, getting into the idea with interest. The end of the world, an unknown doomsday that would kill all those self-righteous imposters. Then, real wizards would come and conquer. The widespread destruction was what really sparked his ideas. "And when it does come, we will do everything in our power to make sure we kill each and every one of them."

"Our Dark Lord is incredibly intelligent," said Rodolphus, nodding sagely. His eyes had also acquired that gleam of assured victory.

"Agreed," said Rosier.

"Indeed," said Rabastan.

"May he live long and conquer!"

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**Prompts were: Tattered and Ink**

**Characters were: 14-Regulus Black, 15-Roldolphus Lestrange, 16-Rabastan Lestrange, 17-Evan Rosier**

**Doomsday was: Undead Takeover. It was twisted a bit and I used the fairly vague inferi references. I hope it was enough:/**

**All in all, a very interesting challenge. **

**Leave me a review?**


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